Airplanes
by hannah-jennifer
Summary: Inspired from last nights episode, Reviews are welcome


**That episode last night? Urgh, so many feels. I can't contain my emotions. Two weeks? Seriously? Noelle, girl, why didn't you tell us you played an awesome escort? Respect the Peck, please. And Jerry? Cries. Sam's shirt? Damn. His face on the promo was priceless, poor guy. **

**Anyways, this was inspired by the small conversation Jerry and Sammy had at the end of the episode; about his fear of flying. Poor Swarek.**

**I know, because of what's happening in the next episode makes it so the conversation I'm writing will never happen the way I want. Not under those circumstances, at least.**

**Anyways, I do not own Rookie Blue.**

**Enjoy.**

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"I heard you're not coming to my wedding?" Jerry asked once Sam had sidled up next to him. It had been a long day, for sure. Starting when Andy had questioned Sam about weddings. The only wedding Sam had ever been to was his sister's. And it was a bit early for the wedding talk; or at least one revolved around them. Sure, they both loved each other more than anything, and he knew for a fact that this was the woman who he would raise children with, but they were only in a committed day-to-day relationship for a few months now.

_Best months of your life_.

But that was earlier. He now dealt with a John who got to go free, an escort whose boyfriend was abusive, a missing girl, and a kidnapper/possible murderer running free. Not to mention he still had to pick up McNally.

Sam was oddly proud; maybe it was the undercover op that didn't involve Boyd, or maybe it was the fact the rookies grew up. They were making fine coppers.

"What? Who told you that?" he asked, baffled. He never said that. Sure, he was never a fan of going somewhere he couldn't drive, but it was his best friend's wedding. Not to mention McNally, in a bikini. _Okay, Sammy, get that image out of your head. You're talking to Jerry. You can think about it tonight when you're with her._

"That's the word on the street." Jerry stated, not giving up the identity of the contact. Although Sam already knew who it was; Andy.

They continued walking in silence for a few steps, neither sure what to say. A heavy sigh escaped Sam's throat, pent up stress and emotion leaving in one breath. Sam shook his head.

"That's too bad," explained Jer, "I was hoping you'd be my best man."

Sam almost stopped dead in his tracks. He turned to face Jerry, trying to figure out if he was joking. Which he wasn't, as he returned the look with one of positive reinforcement. A smile began to grace his face, as he was never a best man. Usually just sitting in the rows of seats in the front. Sam threw an arm around Jerry's shoulder, hand squeezing it in a friendly gesture.

"Thought you'd never ask." _Never thought anyone would._

"The thing with the best man," he went on, "is that he usually comes to the wedding." They continued their journey through the station, hand still on his best friend's shoulder.

Sam dropped his hand, stopping to face his friend, who did the same. Sam sighed, "Couldn't just have it at city hall, could you?" You know, make things a little easier.

"You know what," his voice slightly threatening, "Why don't you just tell Andy the truth. It's not a big deal. You're afraid of flying." Throughout his little speech, Jerry's hands remained in the air as if he were making an obvious statement.

Sam's face flashed embarrassment before he covered it with disbelief. "I never said that," he scoffed, "I just don't like taking my boots off at the airport." _Really, Swarek? You don't like taking your boots off? That's the best you could think of?_

"Okay," Jerry said, dropping the subject. Sam started his walk again, this time slightly in front of Jerry. An arm tossed over his shoulder, hand landing on his chest, showed support from his friend. Sam's face was still in one of disbelief, like, how did Jerry know? _He's a detective, dumbass. _

Jerry gave a quick pat before walking off, leaving Sam to go pick up his girlfriend.

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"Sam, why are you so against a destination wedding?" Andy asked after dinner. It had been a late night, so it was around 11:45. And she was already dressed in a pair of yellow shorts and a black tank top. He of which stayed in jeans, minus a shirt, as they were in the privacy of his room. And he had yet to finish stripping his clothes.

"I told you, McNally," he accused, hoping she would think he had a legit excuse. She didn't seem to buy into it, instead rushing around the bed, pulling the sheets away. He had himself seated at the edge, as to try and stay out of her way.

"Sam, I get if you don't think weddings are a big deal. Like, I know not all people want to get married-" she started, standing up straight as if her size would intimidate him. It wouldn't, of course, as she was pretty light.

"I didn't say that," he repeated for the second time today. She glanced at his jeans before continuing.

"Drop your pants," she instructed, picking up other clothes from the floor and tossing them into a bin.

"McNally," he started, letting out a low whistle, "Want to get me in bed that bad? Well then have at me." He flung his arms out to the side, bearing his chest to her. She rolled her eyes, pushing him back on the bed.

"Not for that, Swarek. I'm going to do some laundry. So don't flash your dimples, or pecks, and expect to get out of this conversation."

"Why not? What's the big deal about it?" Obviously, that was the wrong thing to say.

"What's the big deal? Sam, that's your best friend getting married. If you don't like weddings, suck it up for a few days," she was a little frustrated. He could tell. "Oh, and will you take off your pants already?" she added as an afterthought.

Trying not to upset her anymore, Sam complied. He watched her as she picked up one of his shirts that was thrown hazardously away a few nights before. He took a moment longer, than he'd like to admit, to remove his jeans, as he was distracted. Once off, he hands them to her, and watched as she disappeared into the other room.

"Look, Andy, the whole problem with that is I don't like airports," he finally admitted. It wasn't the whole truth, but the truth nonetheless.

She reappeared moments later, hands empty and a sad smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. "I get it."

"Get what?"

"You're afraid of flying," she explained, getting it dead on.

"Am not," he retorted, more like a child than a grown man. She laughed, moved to stand in front of him and placed a delicate hand on his chest. Her brown eyes bore into his, and he knew he was caught.

"Sam, it's okay. We're all afraid of something. Like me, for instance, I hate sleeping in other people's beds," she confessed, hardly realizing what she said.

Sam looked around his room, eyes landing on the bed, which she had unmade and prepared to crawl into moments before. She hated sleeping in his bed? That never showed. Ever.

He pursed his lips in a look of confusion, pointing to her and then to his bed. She didn't seem to catch on. "If you hate sleeping in other people's beds so much, why do you sleep in mine, like, every time we aren't at your apartment?"

That's true; it's very odd for them not to be staying together every night. They've been happily sharing a bed since the day she got back from her suspension.

Her eyes widened in shock and what looked to be pride. "You're right," she exclaimed, "I do. I do sleep here all the time."

He nodded, reaching out for her hand and pushing her onto the bed. He crawled up to lay beside her, letting her head rest on his right arm, his hand trailing over her side. He was more than happy she overcame her fear, even happier she didn't ever realize she was doing it.

"You know," she started matter-of-factly, "You're more likely to die falling off your bed than on a plane." He practically jumped from her, eyes wide and brows furrowed.

"Do you not want me to sleep in the bed with you?" he accused. She reached out and cupped his jaw, and he couldn't help leaning into her touch.

"There's nowhere else I'd rather you be," she admitted, leaning up and pressing a kiss to his forehead. He seemed to relax, pulling her lips to his in a gentle kiss. "You know, there's something related between getting over your fear of flying and me being okay in your bed."

"No there's not. Planes are not nearly as fun as the bed."

She rolled her eyes, "Thank you for ruining the times I try to be sweet."

"I try," he retorted, dimples in full view. "So what were you going to say?"

"Well, don't interrupt me this time, but we'll be together. I mean, I couldn't sleep in someone else's bed before you. Maybe you can't ride a plane before me," she explained.

A smug grin pulled at the corner of his lips. "Of course I can't ride I plane before you. I mean, who would want to do it with an aircraft when they have you," he explained.

She slapped his chest but couldn't help but laugh. "Perv," she accused. "I think that was supposed to be a compliment."

"It was."

"Okay, but seriously. At least try. Get some of those pills or something to relax you. I'll be there, so if you freak out, hold my hand," she suggested, smiling.

He just looked at her, his expression unreadable. "First, I am not a girl. Second, you of all people know how much of a man I am," he winked, suggestively, "Thirdly, you have five seconds to run before you get it for thinking me girly."

Andy gave him a stern look, "You like holding my hand." She smiled when he laced his fingers through hers, reaching down to kiss her. She pushed herself up to deepen the kiss, not letting go of his hand.

"That may be," he said once they pulled away, breathless, "Two, one…"

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**What can I say, that was longer than I thought. I wish that's how it would happen :P but knowing what is going to happen, I know that's not the case.**


End file.
